


full hands, full heart

by moonlightlov



Category: GOT7
Genre: Bad Porn, Enjoy!, M/M, bad angst, bad fluff, canon!verse, handjobs, it's all bad really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 18:52:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2239689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlightlov/pseuds/moonlightlov
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>mark knows it's just a friend helping a friend, but he can't help wanting more</p>
            </blockquote>





	full hands, full heart

Jackson usually comes home late, so Mark thinks he's safe when he takes out his laptop and stealthily slathers his dick with lotion under the sheets. The door doesn't have a lock, but everybody in the dorm knows not to storm in unannounced. Except Jackson. But Mark doesn't expect Jackson home until later. Much later, preferably.

Mark sighs and leans back against the wall. It's been a long time since him and his hand have reconnected. He's been on edge all week and a good jack off session is just what the doctor ordered.

He's just getting into a good rhythm, breath hitching and teeth caught on his bottom lip when the door opens.

Mark yelps, slamming his laptop shut and pulling the sheets up to his neck, sweaty and panicked.

His roommate, best friend, and tormenter stands in the doorway, swaying drunkenly. "Jackson!!! You're home early!" Mark practically shrieks in nervousness.

"I may have gotten a little drunk," Jackson says, swaying, before breaking off into swearing in Cantonese as he stumbles inside and swings the door shut behind him.

Mark is afraid to move, afraid that Jackson will notice how red Mark’s face is and how suspicious the tightly shut laptop on his lap is, despite how drunk Jackson is.

Mark's fears are well-founded. If there's one thing he knows, it's that Jackson notices everything, especially where Mark is concerned.

Jackson stops suddenly. "You jacking off in here Marky Mark?" he asks, delighted.

"What?" Mark asks, voice cracking. "No!"

Jackson grins at him and points. "I know you, man! You look so guilty!”

Mark just gapes, eyes wide. He doesn't know how to respond.

Jackson sidles closer to Mark. "Need a helping hand?"

Mark's mouth opens, closes, and opens again. "A... what?"

"A hand. 手. 손. " The three languages they share. "You know, just a friend helping a friend."

Mark blinks. It feels like his brain is processing things very slowly. "Jackson," he asks carefully, "are you offering to give me a handjob?"

"Well, when you put it like that..."

Mark licks his lips. It wasn't everyday that Jackson Wang offered to give him a handjob, now was it? He would be an idiot to decline the offer. "Sure," he blurts out suddenly, startling himself. Jackson seems similarly shocked. "C'mere."

Jackson approaches Mark's mat, steps slow with what might be nervousness but Mark thinks is just alcohol.

"Budge over," Jackson says, and slides into the sheets next to Mark. The laptop is shunted unceremoniously to the floor but Mark doesn't have the wherewithal to complain because Jackson is entirely too warm next to him. A hand falls clumsily on the waistband of Mark's boxers and traces below it. Mark inhales sharply at the feeling of a strange hand on his skin.

"You already got pretty far, didn't you," Jacksons says appreciably, and then, amazingly, his hand is stroking Mark's dick. Mark's erection, which had flagged when Jackson stumbled in, had returned to its former glory at Jackson's offer of a handjob. "You're pretty big when you're hard," Jackson says, impressed.

Mark gasps and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to come to terms with the fact that someone is touching his dick and that that someone is Jackson Wang.

"Hey, are you okay?" Jackson asks curiously. Mark starts; the voice is so close that Jackson's breath brushes his ear.

"Yeah, f-fine," Mark stutters, trying to ignore how turned on this is making him. "Just... could you not talk?"

"Right, spoils the fantasy," Jackson says. "Imagine I'm a pretty girl. What kind of girls do you like? Oh, right. I'm a pretty girl, with long, long hair, and big, round--"

"Jackson!" Mark cuts him off. "Quiet!"

"Sorry," Jackson says, but he doesn't sound sorry, and he squeezes Mark's dick a little tighter in retaliation.

Mark hisses and arches his back. That seems to give Jackson the encouragement he needs, though, because he begins stroking Mark with a new gusto. Without Jackson's talking, the silence is almost awkward, until Mark begins imagining the pretty, pretty girl. She does have long hair, and her hands are delicate and strong around his dick. She's pulling at him and her hair brushes his belly and hides her face from view. He reaches down and pulls her face up so he can see it. She looks up shyly, but her smile is mischievous. And familiar. Her face is Jackson's face, and suddenly her hands are Jackson's hands. Mark comes with a shout, which Jackson laughingly muffles with his hand. "Wow! That must be a new record for you Mark-sshi! You barely even lasted three minutes."

"Shut up," Mark says, and tries to glare at Jackson through his post-coital haze. He's amazed by how.. not-awkward this is. Maybe it's because Jackson is acting so normal.

"It's okay," Jackson sighs. "It's not like any of us are in fighting shape with the comeback promotions." He peers down regretfully at his own cock, which Mark can see is half-hard in his jeans.

Mark clears his throat nervously. "Do you... Do you want me to do you?"

"Oh, you don't have to," Jackson says, but he spreads his legs a little wider in invitation.

Mark rolls his eyes. He still finds himself reaching down Jackson's pants and stroking what he finds there.

It’s a little more awkward giving a handjob than it is getting one. Mark’s never done this before, not on another guy, and he’s so nervous he’s going to mess this up somehow that his hands are sweaty. He slicks his hands down Jackson’s dick and then back up again, carefully watching to see Jackson’s response.

Jackson has his eyes closed, head tilted back against the wall. When Mark twists his hand up around Jackson’s dick, Jackson’s bites his bottom lip. Mark can’t help but stare a little-- Jackson looks good like this. Really good. Worrisomely good. Mark is thinking about how attractive his best friend is while giving him a handjob. This is bad.

Jackson’s eyes blink open and he sees Mark staring at him. “Something wrong…?”

Mark suddenly realizes he’s stopped moving his hand at all, and he’s just kind of grabbing Jackson’s dick.

“Shit, sorry,” Mark stutters and tries not to blush as he resumes stroking hesitantly.

“You don’t have to be nervous, you’re doing fine,” Jackson encourages, eyes sliding shut again. “It’s just a dick.”

“Thank you for the advice, Jackson,” Mark responds, feeling a little indignant. Trust Jackson to be condescending to the dude giving him a handjob. “Any other tips for me?”

“...You could be a little rougher…”

Mark laughs triumphantly and fists Jackson’s dick tightly. “I always knew you were a masochist!”

“I’m not!” Jackson yelps.

Mark tightens his grip on Jackson’s dick and pulls a little harder. “I knew you kept provoking Jaebum to wrestle you as a part of your weird sexual fantasies.”

“It’s not… sexual fantasy,” Jackson protests weakly, too busy shuddering against Mark to come up with much of a response.

“Nice comeback,” Mark cackles, and Jackson comes in spurts all over Mark’s hand and wrists. It’s one of those moments that seems to slide on into an eternity. Mark watches Jackson cum with the wonder that he usually reserves for the first snowfall of winter. Jackson’s body goes taunt, his hips rise off the mattress and stutter slightly. The tendons on his neck stand out and his face is contorting into an expression of either extreme ecstasy or extreme pain. Mark wants to say something funny, like “You look like you’re dying,” but for some reason there’s this lump in his throat, and he’s afraid if he opens his mouth he’ll say something entirely different, something like, “You’re incredibly beautiful,” or “I want to see you come every day for the rest of my life,” or “I always thought fate had brought us together, but I never realized it had brought us together for this purpose.” But saying any of that would be incredibly embarrassing so instead Mark just makes a noise of disgust and pulls his cum-covered hand away from Jackson’s spent dick.

“Now that was a nice comeback!” Jackson chirps as soon as he has his breath back, and Mark plummets back down to earth.

“Ha, ha,” Mark mock-laughs, “Now can you go get me a washcloth or something? I don’t like having your cum all over my arms.”

“Next time I’ll do it on your face, then,” Jackson retorts, but obediently gets up. Once he’s vertical he stumbles into the wall and spends a good twenty seconds fumbling with the doorknob. Mark laughs at him the entire time.

Thirty minutes later, Jackson is snoring on his pallet, and Mark is (relatively) clean and tucked up into bed, fucked out, and very, very confused. He’s distantly familiar with the concept of handjobs between friends, but he had never really pegged himself as the type to participate… And for some reason when Mark closes his eyes all he can see is Jackson coming into Mark’s hand, hair sweated to his scalp, face flushed and mouth wide.  Mark’s heart fills up so much he feels like he’s choking

 

The alarm blares Mark awake at 6 A.M., but Mark doesn’t get out of bed right away. The uneasy thoughts that had been circling his head last night wash over him unpleasantly. A few desperate questions pluck at his consciousness. Would Jackson act any differently now? Wait, would he try to act like nothing had happened at all? Or would he actually have forgotten about the incident entirely? No, no, Jackson definitely wasn’t drunk enough last night to forget about giving his roommate a handjob. Or was he? Mark squeezes his eyes shut as he panics.

There’s a groan from Jackson’s side of the room and Mark’s heart starting pounding. Fight or flight. Then there’s a thump. Mark blinks his eyes open, confused. “Jackson?”

The blaring of the alarm stops suddenly, and Mark turns his head to find Jackson glaring at him from the floor.

“It’s your job to turn off the alarm, Mark,” Jackson reminds him icily.

“You look like shit,” Mark says, which is true. Jackson is splayed out on the floor, still wrapped in his coverlet. His face is bloated from the past night’s drinking and his hair is plastered to the side of his head. The little angry pout on his lips is really, really cute, though. Mark kind of wants to kiss it off his face.

Mark rolls back onto his back and stretches. “You should probably stop drinking nights before we have packed schedules. Noyoung-hyung’s gonna be pissed.”

Jackson rolls across the floor, somehow miraculously untangling himself from his sheets, and pulls a towel out of the dresser. “But at least I got laid last night!”

“What?” Mark squawks.

Jackson flicks him with the towel. “You, dummy. Or are you going to pretend you forgot last night? That doesn’t even make sense, I was the one drinking!”

Mark covers his face with his hands. “No, no. I remember last night.”

Jackson laughs, endearing and way, way too loud for seven in the morning. “No regrets, Mark! You did great!”

Mark pulls his hands away from his face and attempts to glare at Jackson. “Thanks,” he says, trying for sarcasm, but when Jackson wiggles his eyebrows at him, Mark starts laughing instead.

Jackson grins dopily back at him. “If I had known a brojob would’ve made you this giggly, I would’ve given you one a long time ago!”

Mark laughs harder, “Brojob?!”

Jackson pauses at the door, “You’re from America, how do you not know this stuff? Oh, by the way, I call first shower.”

“Ya! That shower is mine!” Mark protests, finally sitting up, but Jackson has already left.

Mark is relieved at how normal everything seemed. In retrospect, he shouldn’t have even worried about Jackson acting weird. It was pretty hard to phase him. And why would something like this even weird Jackson out? It was just something friends did, apparently. It wasn’t gay or anything! Mark had never given a friend a handjob personally, but Mark was never in an Olympic-level Hong Kong fencing team. Maybe that’s just how it was done over there. Jackson had obviously done it tons, and he was the straightest guy Mark knew.

… But then why did Mark still feel so weird? When he thinks about Jackson “helping out” his friends in the fencing team he feels sick with something eerily reminiscent of jealousy. And when he imagines jerking Jackson off in the future, and getting a “Thanks, bro” in return, he feels even worse.

Mark slides back into bed and pulls the covers over his head. “Fuck,” he sighs. Giving Jackson Wang a handjob was a huge mistake. Mark figures he can sleep a few extra minutes today.

 

The extra few minutes turn out to be a bad idea. Mark’s late to the van and he feels like a zombie the entire day. It doesn’t help that every time Jackson looks at him Mark’s face turns the color of a ripe tomato.

They film an interview and Jackson casually drapes an arm around Mark’s shoulders. It’s all Mark can think about the entire time. He stutters out monosyllabic answers to the questions directed at him and is silent for the rest. As soon as the cameras shut off, Mark shrugs out from under Jackson’s arm. Mark knows that everybody in the group can tell something is wrong, and that embarasses him even more. In the Inkigayo waiting room, Jaebum is watching them thoughtfully, debating whether to step in or let them sort it out by themselves. Yugyeom and BamBam are engaged in some fierce silent exchange that consists solely of raised eyebrows and desperate head-shaking. Mark thinks it translates roughly to, “Ask hyung what’s wrong!” “No, YOU ask hyung what’s wrong!” “No YOU do it!” Et cetera, et cetera.

Worst of all, though, is that Mark never managed to take a shower that morning. And he swears he can still smell Jackson’s cum on his arm.

Mark finally snaps when Jinyoung, unprompted, brings him a coffee and begins massaging his neck.

Mark ducks away from the hands kneading his nape, “Sorry, I just… I have to go to the bathroom.”

Jinyoung is watching him very carefully, like someone watches a cornered animal that may strike out at any moment. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk?”

“I…” Mark feels like he’s about to cry, but he really doesn’t want to do it here in the Inkigayo waiting room. “Nope, I just really got to pee. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, well, you know where to find me if you need anything.”

“Thanks Jinyoung-ah, you’re great,” Mark says, and fuck, he really is about to cry. He swallows back the panicked tears and runs.

 

Jackson finds Mark in the bathroom thirty minutes later, scrubbing furiously at his arm with the faucet on blast.

“Hey,” Jackson says.

“Hey,” Mark responds, not looking up from the tap.

Jackson slides a little closer and startles Mark by turning the water off. “I didn’t know you were so into personal hygiene,” he jokes weakly.

“Yeah, well. Don’t want to get sick again.” Mark is making a pretense of inspecting his hands now instead of looking up at Jackson. He can feel Jackson’s presence like a static tickle dancing across his skin.

Jackson suddenly reaches out and cups Mark’s hand. It takes every ounce of Mark’s willpower not to flinch at the touch. Jackson traces the scar on Mark’s wrist. “I remember when you got this,” he says quietly.

“It wasn’t that long ago.”

“I should have warned you it was icy.” Jackson sounds serious in a way he rarely does.

Mark pulls his hand away. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Jackson pulls his hand back too, and shoves it in his pocket awkwardly. “Still…”

Mark pastes a smile on his face, still staring fixedly at his hands. He’s afraid that if he looks at Jackson, Jackson will see everything written on his face. All the confusing gay romantic non-friendly feelings. And the fact that he was crying earlier. “Is there anything you wanted, Jackson?”

“Jinyoung asked me to come check on you… Are you okay? You’ve been acting weird all day.”

The smile freezes on Mark’s face. Of course. Jackson only came here because Jinyoung asked him to, not because he noticed anything wrong. Not because he cared or anything.

Mark squares his shoulders and finally meets Jackson’s gaze. “I’m fine,” he tells Jackson. “Well, I’m a little tired, but we all are. I just needed some time to breathe.”

“And wash your hands,” Jackson points out.

“Personal hygiene is important.”

Jackson laughs and claps Mark on the shoulder. “Alright, well as long as everything’s okay… I’m going back to the waiting room, wanna come?”

Mark stiffly shakes his head, smile still glued in place. “No thanks. I just need one more moment here.”

Jackson’s smile falters, but for only a second. “Well, okay. I guess I’ll see you there.” Then he turns and leaves.

Mark takes his extra moment to face himself down in the mirror. “You’re really, really stupid,” he tells himself. “Never ever EVER let Jackson Wang give you a handjob ever again.”

The rest of the day is uneventful. Mark goes back to the waiting room and lets Jinyoung baby him. They perform. They roll into bed around three in the morning. Jackson doesn’t say anything to him but “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Mark responds and that’s it.

It gets easier. Jackson doesn’t ask for any handjobs or offer to give Mark any. Mark does the same. Their schedule is so packed there’s no time for handjobs, anyways. Mark is almost surprised at how easy it is to keep joking with Jackson, to see him almost every minute of every waking moment and still manage to hide the blooming, despairing, non-platonic feeling in his chest.

The other members seem to have forgotten that awkward Inkigayo as well. Everything goes on as normal, or as normally as things go on for idols. There’s an unending amount of work, everyone is exhausted and stressed. Half of the members come down with the flu, and the other half have to work overtime to make up for it. Mark’s in and out of IV drips and there’s always a camera and bright television lights in his face, even in his dreams.

Finally, it all comes to a close. Their last night of promotions, Noyoung-hyung buys them a bottle of champagne. They’re all gathered around the dining room table and the common area has been decorated for a little party, with streamers and balloons. It’s all very charming. There aren’t any Real Got7 cameras, so there is no one to perform for. Mark is looking forward to letting loose tonight.

Noyoung pours them all glasses of champagne, even the underage kids. “Don’t tell your parents,” he warns them, and they all giggle. Then Noyoung lifts his glass solemnly. “I would like to propose a toast. You kids have done great work this promotion period. Amazing work, actually. I just wanted to say I’m really proud of you and I hope we can continue like this in the future.”

“Don’t cry, hyung!” Jackson shouts, and the room erupts into laughter.

Surprisingly, Noyoung doesn’t react aside from smiling wider and shouting “Cheers!”

They all clink their glasses and down the champagne. Mark is pretty sure champagne isn’t meant to be chugged, but that’s what’s happening. Yugyeom and BamBam are doing a love shot, and it’s adorable.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Noyoung-hyung announces, “I’m going out. I haven’t had personal time in a month and I want to see my girlfriend.”

Everyone cheers, and Noyoung tries to glare at them for insubordination but can’t because of the smile spreading across his face. “Try not to burn the apartment down. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“We love you, hyung!” Youngjae says, ingratiating as always. They all wish him well on his way out the door, trying not to be too obvious about their eagerness for his departure.

As soon as Noyoung is out the door, Jaebum stands up, a stupid smile on his face. “While hyung is away, the kids will play. Wait here one minute.”

Mark exchanges puzzles glances with Yugyeom as Jaebum rushes into his room and comes out with a huge paper bag. He sets it on the table, amidst a lot of ooh-ing and aah-ing. “What is it?” BamBam asks. He’s so wound up he’s wiggling in his chair.

“What is it, hyung!” Jaebum bellows, but obligingly reveals the contents of the bag. There’s three more bottles of champagne and a copy of Mario Kart inside.

“How did you get this?” Jackson asks, awed.

“Jaebummie-hyung has his ways,” Jinyoung says, gazing fondly at the leader.

Jaebum taps the side of his nose. “That I do. Highschoolers!” he suddenly shouts, pointing at Youngjae, BamBam, and Yugyeom. Yugyeom already has a bottle of champagne in his lap and is untwisting the wire cover. “One more glass each!”

“Awwwww!” they whine in chorus. Yugyeom puts the bottle back on the table and ducks his head.

Jaebum softens. “What are you waiting for, Yugyeomie? Open it!”

“Pop that bottle!” Jackson shouts in English, and the room erupts into laughter once again.

Yugyeom does in fact pop that bottle, and in the process gets champagne all over the dining room. “What do I do, what do I do?” Yugyeom panics as bubbles course out of the bottle and BamBam laughs so hard he starts gasping for breath. Mark is laughing along too, and he can’t imagine a time when he’s been happier. He’s surrounded by his closest friends, he’s a popular and beloved celebrity, and he just finished promoting his second single. It’s hard to miss home or pine after Jackson when he’s surrounded by all this happiness.

But he still manages somehow. Jackson catches his eye from across the table. His face is wide and open, his smile so bright Mark almost can’t stand to look at it. He meets Jackson’s gaze and it’s like the rest of the members fade away. It’s just him and Jackson, smiling at each other across a table. Mark swears can feel his heart thundering in his ears and feel the blood pounding under his skin. Then Jackson looks away and the moment is broken. Mark’s smile is still there (how could he not be smiling?), but it’s different because he’s no longer smiling with Jackson. Jackson is now smiling at BamBam and sneaking him an extra glass of champagne under the table. Mark tries not to feel jealous.

“Another toast!” Jinyoung shouts, “To each and every one of you, I love you so much!”

They cheer and down more champagne. Mark likes how the bubbles flit around his mouth.

“Are you drunk already, Jinyoungie?” Jackson asks.

“Pop another bottle!” Jinyoung shouts and there is more laughter.

The night whizzes by in a way that only happens when one is incredibly drunk. One minute Mark is playing Mario Kart with the maknaes (and getting his ass kicked), the next he’s embroiled in a life-or-death plan to get the back-up ramen off the top shelf. “We have to bring in a chair,” Jaebum is saying reasonably, or at least it would be reasonable if he wasn’t swaying where he’s standing.

“I can climb on the counter!” Jackson protests. “I’m like a monkey!”

“Yeah, but you’re too nunk.” Jinyoung slurs.

“Nunk?” Jackson asks.

“Dunk,” Jinyoung decides.

Mark is laughing so hard he can’t interject. Honestly, the only thing keeping him standing is the counter he’s leaning on.

Jackson suddenly focuses on him. “You can get up there! You’re the flying member, Mark! Fly!”

“Fly, fly, fly,” Jinyoung starts chanting, giggling.

Mark spreads his arms and flaps them. “I believe I can fly!” he starts singing in English.

Jackson and Jinyoung collapse on to the ground laughing and Mark spends a moment feeling accomplished.

“I’m getting a chair before any of you decide to backflip off the counter,” Jaebum sighs.

Sometime later Mark finds himself in Jinyoung’s room without any memory of how he got there or why. Jinyoung is pawing frantically through one of his dresser drawers. “I swear they’re in here,” he’s muttering.

The maknaes have their light show on, and are blasting some club music with heavy, pounding bass. The night seems to be winding down, though, because they’re not having their nightly dance party, they’re instead having their bimonthly “girl talk,” where they snuggle up in bed together and talk about “life.” Or at least, that’s how it’s been explained to Mark in the past.

“Aha!” Jinyoung says suddenly, and pulls out a pair of star-shaped sunglasses. “Remember these?”

“Oh, yeah,” Mark says, still confused as to why they’re in here looking at old pairs of sunglasses.

Jinyong pops on the glasses and slides gracefully into his piano chair. “Superstar,” he says in English, flipping imaginary hair. Mark giggles. “But yeah, you’re right about Jackson,” Jinyoung says, as if he’s continuing an earlier conversation.

“Jackson?” Mark hedges.

“Total tease. Like, remember the time he kept grabbing my face on the radio show? I was just like, ‘dude, I know it’s just fanservice, but you need to get laid.’”

“Yeah,” Mark says.

“You’re so lucky he doesn’t do that stuff to you. He only gives you ‘nice touches’.”

“I wouldn’t say that…” Mark says, remembering some bone-crushing on-camera hugs.

“Yeah, whatever, of course you wouldn’t. You guys are so weird.”

“Huh?” Mark asks. He’s really confused. He doesn’t know how this conversation started, but he really wants it to end.

Jinyoung seems to sense that, deep beneath his chatty drunk exterior, and he flashes Mark a smile from beneath the star sunglasses. “Want to steal some ramen from Jaebum with me?”

Mark gets a glimpse of a memory; crawling up on to a chair and somehow managing to drag down a pack of ramen without tumbling off. His eyes narrow. “That’s our ramen,” he says. “We earned it.”

“That’s the spirit!” Jinyoung shouts and they bound off to the kitchen together.

Jaebum is happy to see them, even though they do steal most of his ramen. “I didn’t think you guys were going to come back out,” he admits sheepishly.

“What? And let you eat all this ramen on your own?” Jinyoung pouts.

Mark laughs and accidentally sprays soup all over the table. He looks up guiltily to see Jaebum glaring at him and Jinyoung laughing at him. Mark smiles back innocently.

Jackson isn’t in the common room. “Um, where is everybody else?” Mark asks quietly.

Jaebum and Jinyoung exchange glances and Mark pretend not to notice.

Jaebum clears his throat. “Youngjae conked out at like 2:00, boy’s a lightweight… Jackson’s in your room, I think.

“Oh,” Mark says. “I hope Youngjae had a good time tonight. I always worry about him being left out.”

Jinyoung smiles reassuringly. “He had a great time. He played Mario Kart with the maknaes.”

“He lost. Every time,” Jaebum grumbles.

“But he bore his loss with grace,” Jinyoung says, and smiles his Idol Smile.

“Stop that,” Jaebum snickers and teasingly pokes Jinyoung’s cheek.

“Hello, I’m Got7’s mom, Junior! No, I do not cook or clean, thank you and goodnight.”

Jaebum laughs out loud this time and Mark absentmindedly pokes at the ramen. He’s suddenly really tired. “I’m think I’m heading to bed,” Mark announces after a minute, standing. He glances around the room, which is littered with glasses and crumbs. “Is it okay if we clean this tomorrow?” he pleads with Jaebum.

Jaebum waves his hand graciously in between slurps of ramen. “Get some sleep, kid. You done good.”

“I’m your hyung,” Mark jokes, flicking Jaebum in the head gently as he passes him. “Goodnight, guys.”

Jinyoung wraps him into a hug. “Goodnight, my melancholy little Mark.”

Mark pulls away with an awkward laugh and pats Jinyoung on the head. “‘Night.”

Mark is expecting Jackson to be asleep, but he’s not. Instead, he’s sitting on the floor surrounded by what looks like his entire collection of snapbacks.

Mark closes the bedroom door behind him and leans on it for a second in order to more properly take in the scene before him. “What,” he asks, “are you doing?”

Jackson starts and looks up at Mark guiltily. “‘M trying to organize them by color.”

Mark sighs and crosses to Jackson, sitting down next to him amidst the hats. “You’re drunk,” he whispers.

“‘M not,” Jackson slurs and rests his head on Mark’s shoulder.

Mark tries to ignore the tingling sensation that spreads through his body, but can’t help turning his head a little so he can subtly sniff Jackson’s hair. He smells really good. This is bad. “You should go to sleep,” Mark suggests.

Jackson sighs and leans on Mark more heavily. “What about all this?” he whines, gesturing to the snapbacks.

“Look, I’ll help you,” Mark says and begins arranging the hats. He has to pull away from Jackson to do so and for some reason it’s really hard to do. “All your hats are black, so put them all together. There we go, now it’s organized by color.”

Jackson sighs and pulls out a white hat from behind his back. “But this one,” he pouts.

Mark takes the hat and gently sets it in front of all the others. “And here is the white section.”

Jackson scoots closer and leans his head back on Mark’s shoulder. “You’re so smart, Mark-hyung.”

“Are you using aegyo?” Mark asks, and gently shoves Jackson away.

The momentum carries Jackson’s body to the floor and he lays there loose-limbed and giggly. Mark wants to climb on top of him and kiss him until his giggles turn to moans.

Fuck, Mark thinks, this is really bad.

Jackson is watching him from under his eyelashes and Mark can’t look away. “I might be,” Jackson smirks.

“When has your aegyo ever worked on me?” Mark laughs.

“Now?” Jackson asks. He licks his lips and spreads his legs a little wider.

Mark’s mouth goes dry. The invitation is unmistakable. “Don’t do it, don’t do it,” the sober part of Mark’s brain chants. The rest of Mark, however, is completely on board.

“Fuck it,” Mark decides suddenly and he swings a leg over Jackson. He doesn’t think about how much he’s going to regret this tomorrow, or the next day, or for the rest of his life, really. He really tries not to think about he’s making what is probably the biggest mistake of his life as he palms Jackson’s dick through his jeans. “Is this what you had in mind?”

“Fucking… smart…” Jackson says between little gasps. His hips are already hitching underneath Mark’s hand.

The fabric between his hand and Jackson’s dick is starting to bother him, so Mark takes a short break to wrestle off Jackson’s pants. He’s not wearing underwear which is so Jackson that Mark rolls his eyes.

Then Mark gets a little greedy and pushes Jackson shirt up too, just far enough that he can tweak a nipple. “Ah!” Jackson squeaks and his hips jerk again. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

Mark just chuckles and adds it to his growing mental list of things that turn Jackson Wang on. Currently on the list: snapbacks and rough handjobs.

Mark resumes stroking Jackson and it’s almost embarrassing how close to the edge Jackson is this early on. His eyes aren’t closed this time, but open and fixed on Mark’s face almost desperately. Mark wants to tease him a little bit, draw this out longer, but it’s hard to do when Jackson is whimpering, so close to being undone.

Then Mark makes a huge mistake, even bigger than the one that started this whole thing in the first place, and bends down to kiss Jackson. Jackson gasps against his mouth in what Mark assumes is shock but almost instantly he’s kissing back, messy and wet. He’s making sounds in Mark’s mouth, little pants and whines, and Mark belatedly realize he’s making sounds, too, moaning as Jackson’s teeth scrape against his bottom lip.

Mark wants to return the favor somehow. He scrapes his thumbnail lightly over the head of Jackson’s cock and Jackson stiffens under him. He groans into Mark’s mouth as he comes, his hips shuddering. Mark pumps Jackson through it, until his cock is limp and spent and his tremblings have ceased.

Only then, does Mark pull away. He takes in the mess around Jackson’s groin, Jackson’s swollen red lips and the dazed, far-away look in Jackson’s eyes.

“Holy shit,” Jackson breathes.

And Mark has to concur. Holy shit, why did he have to ruin the best friendship of his life. He could pretend that a handjob between friends is normal, but he couldn’t pretend this was normal. Friends don’t make out with their friends as they come. Jackson would know now. He would know that Mark saw him as more than a friend, he would know all about Mark’s less-than-platonic feelings. He would act like it didn’t matter but they would be awkward. They would never be what they once were. Fuck, Mark would have to switch rooms. And how would he be able to promote alongside Jackson? Should he leave the company? Should he leave the country?

“Hey,” Jackson is saying, waving his hand in front of Mark’s face. “Earth to Mark.”

Mark startles out of his whirling thoughts and gazes at Jackson in despair.

Jackson raises his eyebrows and smirks. “Want Jackson Wang to jack your wang?”

“Oh my god,” Mark says and laughs until he cries. Well, sobs. He sobs into his hands and imagines his life without Jackson.

Jackson, who was chuckling along with him in the beginning, pretty soon realizes something is wrong and tentatively touches Mark’s shoulder. “Hey man, are you okay? Fuck, I knew this was a bad idea. I’ve really fucked up. Mark? Please talk to me, man.”

Jackson’s panicked pleas only make Mark sob harder. “I’m so sorry, Jackson,” he manages to choke out.

“What?” Jackson asks. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have kept asking you to do this. I know you’re straight.”

“I’m-- what?” Mark sniffles. “You’re straight.”

Jackson is ignoring him, tearing his hands through his already disheveled hair. “Fuck, I’m an idiot, I thought I could convince you it was just something friendly, but it never was, and now you know, and I’ve screwed everything up, forever, and I’m a horrible person––”

Mark cuts him off. “You’re straight,” he says again, but he’s less convinced this time.

Jackson finally answers him, “Fuck no, you think I’m straight? You think I would only let one gender ride this ride? Why would I deprive the rest of the world of Jackson Wang?”

“Oh my god,” Mark says, and is almost bowled over by the sudden flood of relief and anger Jackson’s words release. “What the fuck is wrong with you.” Mark stands up, fists clenched at his side. He’s so angry he’s shaking. “You’re not straight?”

Jackson cowers at his feet. “Um… no?” he says meekly.

Mark sees red. He wants to slap him. “You’ve been lying to me for three years, Jackson. Three years.”

“Well technically I never lied… You only asked me about girls, so I only told you about the girls!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jackson is practically bowing at Mark’s feet. “I knew you would be like this, and I didn’t want to ruin everything between us, plus I liked you and that just added a whole new dimension of weird, and I’m so, so sorry I coerced you into giving me handjobs by calling them brojobs, I’m really the scum of the earth, I’m the worst person––”

“Jackson,” Mark hisses. “You idiot.” Jackson flinches. “I like you, too.”

“You… what?”

“You think I’m crying because I’m so upset we kissed?”

“Well… yes?”

Mark wants to kick him, and he almost does. “I’m crying because I’ve been dealing with confusing feelings for you for a month and I thought I had finally ruined everything between us tonight by kissing you.”

“Oh,” Jackson says.

“But no,” Mark says, his anger flaring hot again, “You wanted to kiss me too, you’ve just been lying to me for three fucking years about it.”

“I haven’t had a crush on you for that long…” Jackson protests, and this time Mark does kick him. A gentle kick, a tap on his side really. Jackson whimpers and hugs himself. Mark belatedly realizes that Jackson’s pants are still off and this is really, really weird.

“But this is good, right?” Jackson asks with growing excitement. “I like you, you like me…”

“No,” Mark says icily. “I need some time to think.”

“Oh,” Jackson says again. “I could go outside…?” he gestures at the door.

“Yeah,” Mark decides. “You can sleep on the couch tonight. Let’s talk about this in the morning when we’re both sober and I don’t want to rip your head off.”

“Or you could sleep on the couch…” Jackson suggests.

Mark glares at him. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He herds Jackson out the door, shutting it firmly in his pouting face.

What is my life, Mark wonders, before the alcohol and emotional exhaustion catches up to him and he falls into a deep, deep sleep.

 

It’s barely dawn when Mark is woken up by the not-so-quiet sounds of Jackson tripping on a laundry basket. “Sorry, sorry,” Jackson mutters. “I know it’s really early but I couldn’t sleep and I’m sober, now, are you sober? I just really need to talk, please, can we talk now?”

Mark is awake, and sober, but he feels the beginnings of a pounding headache. “Get in,” he croaks, and lifts the corner of the blanket.

“I-- Really?!” Jackson stutters.

“Yeah, I’m not mad at you anymore.”

Jackson, wide-eyed, slides under the covers with Mark and lets Mark position him. He ends up on his back with Mark’s head on his chest. “Comfy,” Mark purrs.

“You’re not mad anymore…?” Jackson reminds him.

“Well a little, but not enough to make a difference. I lied to you, too.” Mark feels Jackson stiffen under him. Mark sighs and lifts his head so he can make eye contact. “The bathroom at Inkigayo. You asked me if I was okay, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t just tired. I was freaking out about the night before.”

“Oh,” Jackson said wonderingly. “Oh. I knew something was wrong, you had been acting weird all day. And I didn’t want to bother you and ask if you were okay because it seemed like you didn’t want to be around me… but then Jinyoung told me to go check up on you and, well, I was like “mother knows best,” which is stupid, but I don’t know––”

“Jackson,” Mark cuts him off, “you’re rambling.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“We’re even now. We’ve both lied.”

“Well…” Jackson hedges. “I lied about an a lot bigger thing, and for a longer time.”

Mark slaps his belly. “Do you want to get thrown out of bed? We’re even now.”

Jackson is watching him with wide, wondering eyes. Mark wants Jackson to always look at him like this. “I’ve been really stupid,” Jackson starts.

“Don’t,” Mark says. “We’ve both been stupid. And I’ve always known you were a lot dumber than me.”

Jackson laughs. “Yeah, yeah I am.”

They lie like that for awhile. Hours, probably. The sun comes up and sneaks through the blinds. Mark drifts in and out of sleep and Jackson is always there warm under his cheek when he wakes up. Sometime later Jackson asks, “Is this okay?” Mark can sense that it’s late in the morning now. There’s the sound of dishes clinking in the common area and someone’s singing in the bathroom next door.

“Is what okay?” Mark asks sleepily.

“Us. This. Cuddling, I guess.”

Mark yawns and burrows deeper into Jackson’s chest. One of Jackson’s hands comes up and strokes his hair; Mark has to resist leaning into it like a cat. “What d’you mean?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m just using you for your body,” Jackson confesses, and Mark cracks up. “Don’t laugh at me!” Jackson protests weakly.

“Well, you should know that I’m just using you for your body,” Mark jokes.

“Really?” Jackson’s eyes kindle with interest. “It’s my thighs, isn’t it? Nobody can resist them for long.”

Mark snorts. “Actually, I need to ask you a question.”

“Yeah?” Jackson sounds nervous.

“That ‘I’m Jackson Wang, can I jack your wang’ thing… did you practice that?”

“Yeah, a lot.”

Mark nods, satisfied. “I really liked it.”

Jackson sighs and pulls Mark closer to him. “Man, we’re perfect for each other.”

Mark wants to say a lot of things, like “Yeah, we are,” or “I’m still a little mad it took you three years to figure that out,” or “I think I might be in love with you,” but it’s still too early in the morning for any of that so instead he takes Jackson’s head in his hands and kisses him until they both fall asleep again.

 

 


End file.
